Never Turn Your Back
by RazielOmega
Summary: He woke up to find her sitting at the foot of his bed, her face dead white and her knees pulled up to her chest, staring. Just staring.
1. Chapter 1

My first SGA fic, and the first fanfic I've written in a long time, so forgive me if it's not wonderful. >.

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He woke up to find her sitting at the foot of his bed, her face dead white and her knees pulled up to her chest, staring. Just staring.

He sat up slowly, afraid he would scare her. "Elizabeth?" he whispered, shaking the sleep from his eyes. She didn't respond, just sat there, rocking back and forth slightly.

"Elizabeth. What happened?" He kept his voice gentle, soft, so unlike his normal bravado tone. She was nothing like the normal strong, woman he knew, who led the city through countless attacks, who could work through any problem thrown at her. Tonight, she looked defenseless. He realized how small she was, her thing arms wrapped around her bony knees, her face gaunt and pale in the moonlight.

Still, she didn't answer.

He reached out slowly, not knowing what else to do, just wanting to touch her and make sure she was still real, that she wasn't just a ghost. The Elizabeth he knew would never let him see her like this. The Elizabeth he knew wouldn't be here at all.

"Elizabeth," he murmured again. She wouldn't look at him. She wouldn't make contact, wouldn't let others touch her. She isolated herself, like she always did. She buried herself in her work and her job, and he worried sometimes that she forgot she was human.

He brushed her arm with a feather-light touch, and she jumped as if he'd hit her. Her eyes widened and focused on his for just a moment, and then went back to staring at nothing. And what he saw in them shook him, scared him more than her presence did. Because what he saw was nothing. Emptiness. Her eyes were flat, dead, devoid of their usual spark.

She was still sitting curled at the end of his bed, still rocking and shaking. Her fingers were gripping the sides of her arms so tightly they'd turned bright white, and he was afraid her nails would dig into her skin so deeply they'd cut. Her hair was messy, unkempt, ragged curls falling into her face. But she didn't notice. She didn't seem to notice anything.

He wondered how long she'd been sitting there, lost in her own nightmare.

He reached out again, his fingers taunt and shaking with tension, afraid that if he touched her she might scream, or leave, or break. But he couldn't let her alone like this; she was always alone, always so alone, and it had been all he could do to not touch her before. Not to prove to her that human contact wasn't toxic. But she'd always been so strong.

Now that she looked so broken, he was afraid it was too late.

He touched her arm again and this time she didn't react at all, made no sign that she was even aware he was in the same room. He moved his hand down her arm; her fingers were cold, ice cold, and so thin. Gently, gently, he pried her nails out from her skin, uncurling them from their death grip. As soon as he'd done so, they clenched tightly again, but this time around his own hand. He wondered that such frail fingers could squeeze with such strength, wondering if she was putting everything she had into that one point of contact, holding on to him as if he was all that was keeping her from falling.

He moved his other hand out and brushed it lightly against her hair, moving a stray strand out of her face so he could see her eyes. And slowly, slowly, she looked up at him, making real eye contact for the first time since she'd appeared like a ghost in his room. Her stormy gray eyes caught and held his, begging for something he couldn't understand. They were dry, too dry, but shining so brightly he could have sworn they were streaming tears.

He smoothed her hair back again, trying to think of something to say, something meaningful, something helpful, but he came up blank. So he just whispered her name again, hopeful that maybe that time she would respond.

And that time, she did.

With a fierce desperation that shocked him, she suddenly lurched forward and threw her arms around his neck, pressing her face into his shoulder. He felt her fingers claw at his back as she shook, and he wrapped his own arms tightly around her, crushing her to him, rocking her gently and whispering meaningless words in her ear. She wasn't crying; she never cried. But her silent despair was so much worse than weeping could ever be.

He wondered how long she'd been holding back, how long she'd been struggling behind her façade of professionalism and independence. How long she had ached to just let go, to let someone else hold her up for once. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. All he knew was that he was relieved she'd finally chosen to trust him.

The slight body in his arms was convulsing now, horribly, and a shock of worry hit him. Something was very wrong. He realized that he could feel every rib through her shirt, that her arms on his back dug into his skin unnaturally. Whatever this was, it wasn't a passing gloom. He reached up with one hand to stroke her hair gently, whispering, "Elizabeth, talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

But she didn't hear him, or didn't want to. She just kept her arms locked around him, her face hidden, and he could do nothing but hold her, and hope that it was enough.

Her shaking figure began to calm, gradually, the nails digging into his back tear with less force. Her ragged breathing was hot on his neck, intoxicating him and making it impossible to think about anything but the woman in his arms. His hand methodically moved up and down her back, soothing, calming, trying to give her some semblance of stability.

From the way she clutched at him, so desperately, he was afraid that he was all that was holding her up. And he was terrified that he wouldn't be enough.

After many long minutes had passed, she finally lay quiet in his embrace. Her breathing evened out, slight, moist puffs on his neck, but her face was pressed just as firmly against him as it had been since she first threw herself at him. Her arms loosened and dangled lightly around him, but he kept his just as tightly around her, afraid to let her go. Afraid she'd fall to pieces if he let her.

When her shirt had begun to scratch against his bare chest, and her hair to tickle his face intolerably, he slowly began to lie back down, keeping her pressed against him, asleep. He laid his head down against his pillow and let hers hit beside it, her eyes still closed, her body still limp. She stirred weakly, her eyes fluttering open for an instant, focusing on him, and then drifting closed again. He reached down and grabbed a blanket, pulling it carefully over both of them, and then lay on his side, just staring at her sleeping figure. She looked so innocent, so vulnerable while she was asleep. She looked real.

He tenderly ran his hands through her soft hair, hoping that maybe he could sooth her dreams. She stirred once more, murmuring meaningless words, and then settled down again, letting out a small sigh, unconsciously clutching at the sheets under her. He put his hand in hers so she gripped his fingers instead, nearly as tightly as before, and she seemed to calm, her whole body relaxing for the first time that evening.

He closed his eyes, and smiled.

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There may be more, depending on my muse. I'd appreciate reviews, love to know what you think


	2. Chapter 2

OMG an update O.O Thank you guys so much for the reviews, they really made my day :D And yes, I intentionally wrote it with an ambiguous "he". Although I would imagine you can guess who it is, and I certainly had someone in mind when I wrote it ;) 

Spoilers: Vague ones for season one and for conversion, if you blink you'll miss them

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The feel of a warm body next to him jerked him awake the next morning, with a flash of confusion and a flare of memory. She was there. She was still there. He'd been so sure she'd be gone, slipping out the minute she realized where she was and what she had done. But she was still there.

She slept beside him, turned away, her strained face resting on one arm she had lying above her head. Her knees were bent, pulled up halfway to her chest, and her other hand was pulled in close against her, her arm in a protective circle around her body. She'd thrown the blanket off both of them sometime during the night, and was shivering in the cold, lines of tension crossing her face too regularly. He pulled the sheet back over her, and watched as her shaking slowly subsided, the pained look on her face fading away. She was so thin; she must have been eating hardly anything at all. She worked so hard, he knew, she often just forgot.

Or maybe she didn't.

He sighed softly, glancing at the clock next to his bed and realizing that it really was morning. The sun would be rising soon; it was disconcerting living in a room with no windows, because he could never see the light. It was one of the things he missed the most about his life on earth, waking up to the sunlight in his eyes.

He glanced back at Elizabeth, sleeping so peacefully beside him, and wondered if she missed the same thing. She stood out on the balcony so often – she must miss the open air, being cooped up inside the city all day as she was. And she so rarely took breaks, he was surprised she hadn't gone insane yet.

He absently brushed a strand of hair out of her face, enjoying its silky texture beneath his fingers, and the soft whisper of her skin. He wondered if she realized how beautiful she was. If she knew how amazing she was. She seemed to think of herself as always needing to do better, as always needing to prove herself. She didn't seem to understand that she had already earned everyone's respect a thousand times over, and that people cared about her as more than just a leader. She never thought of herself as a human being.

He wished she knew how much she meant to him. He longed to make her see that she was important, that he valued her life more than he valued his own. He wanted her to know that he would do everything he could to make her alright.

He ran his fingers through her hair again and again, cherishing this one moment he had with her, this one time he could treat her as a woman instead of an invulnerable leader. He knew that when she woke up she would cease to be Elizabeth. She would draw back inside herself, and cover Elizabeth up, and paint Dr. Weir over her. And he would be helpless to stop her.

But for now, he could touch Elizabeth. And he could try to make her see that sometimes it was all she could do to just be human.

He didn't know when she awoke. He became aware, suddenly, that her eyes were open, staring out at nothing again. She was awake, and she was still there.

He had his head propped up on one hand, so he could see her, and had been just watching her for the better part of an hour. But somehow she had jumped into the conscious world without him noticing, which made him wonder if she'd ever been asleep at all.

But no, she could never have looked so peaceful had she been awake.

And she was still there.

His hand froze, still tangled in the soft mess of her hair. He was suddenly afraid to move, terrified that if he did he would ruin whatever tranquility this moment held, he would destroy this one moment of disillusioned reality. He was counting the seconds she remained there, counting down to the moment she would inevitably snap back into place. To the moment he would lose her again.

But his fingers in her hair couldn't stay still; they moved of their own will, caressing her, soothing her, trying to remove all her pain through their simple motions. He saw her eyes flutter shut for a moment, and she sighed softly.

"Morning," he whispered, unable to help himself. He could only hope his words didn't break the spell that seemed to have captivated her here.

There was a long silence, and for a moment he was afraid that she would still refuse to speak to him. But several eternal seconds later, she murmured back, "Morning." The smile on his face could have lit up the entire city.

He closed his eyes for a moment, wondering if she could feel the waves of relief that rolled off him. He'd been so scared that she would never be the same again, that she would never be the Elizabeth he knew. But she had always been there.

He didn't know what to say. He'd never been the good-with-words type; that was her job, as an ambassador. Although he supposed she wasn't so great with them herself when it came to personal matters. He didn't want to pry, but he didn't want her to think he didn't care. And in the end, he just couldn't keep silent.

"How you doing?" he asked gently, his voice barely a whisper. She didn't answer, only stared at the wall, unmoving, lifeless. He let out a shaky sigh, full of concern, and pressed his face into her neck, placed one arm protectively over her body. For a moment she didn't move, didn't react at all, but then she turned her head slightly, so he could see her brilliant eyes clearly, and reached out unsteadily, slipping her hand in his. She squeezed it tightly, drawing his strength desperately, and then abruptly sat up, knocking him back slightly.

"I should go," she stated, her voice barely audible. He just closed his eyes, willing her to stay.

"Don't. Please." He stared at the back of her head, at her thin shoulders and slightly quivering arms, and wondered how long she'd be able to last this time.

"I have to. I'm late as it is."

"Elizabeth." He tried to put all of his worry, his love, into that one pleading word. He saw her shoulders tense up, but she didn't move off the bed, just stayed sitting with her back turned. "Just… stay."

For a moment he thought she was going to listen. For just one moment, he thought she would throw away her responsibilities, her reservations, just for today. Just for an hour, a minute, a second. Just give him _something_. Let him do something for her, even if it was only one touch, instead of leaving him in the dark, feeling useless, worthless. He'd watched for so long as she'd slowly died inside, trying and failing to reach out to her, never able to breech the impassible walls she placed around herself. And now he had a chance, he had this one shot at slipping inside those boundaries and taking her pain.

But she had to let him.

He knew she was scared. Hell, he would be terrified. He knew how hard it was to trust someone completely, to let them know your innermost secrets, to place your life and sanity in their hands. Just the fact that she'd come to him at all reassured him immensely, but he knew she was far from fine. He wanted to help her, wanted it so badly, but she just continued to push him away.

_Please,_ he begged her silently. _Please._

But she was shaking her head, her hands clenching unconsciously at the sheets, and he could _feel_ her struggling, wanting so badly to let him hold her, wanting so badly to force him away.

"I can't," she choked, her voice thick with tension and tears, and she stood up so rapidly she tore the sheets slightly as they were ripped from her death grip. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, her back still turned to him, her body so painfully thin from behind.

He felt a surge of white hot rage and ice cold fear rush through him, watching her hastily rebuilding her walls, preserving herself inside their deadly protection for just a little while longer.

And he snapped.

"Why not?" he growled, his voice harsh with anger and a deep dread he couldn't even begin to comprehend. "Why do you do this, Elizabeth? Why did you come to me at all, if you're not going to let me help? I WANT to help you. I would do ANYTHING to help you. Why the hell did you come here if you're just going to push me away?" He was standing, he realized, walking around the bed to stand in front of her shaking figure.

"You're KILLING yourself, Elizabeth. Whatever is going on is eating at you and won't stop until you're gone. I KNOW, Elizabeth. Believe me, I know. But you're so goddamn selfish. Don't you realize what would happen if you were gone? Don't you know how much everyone here depends on you? How much I need you?" He was almost screaming now, his eyes blazing at her broken form, and he didn't even realize what he'd said until after the words had slipped from his mouth. But he didn't take them back, didn't stop or apologize, because he knew that he needed to get through to her, now, or he would have lost her forever.

"You can't keep doing this. I don't care how strong you think you are, how tough you think you have to be, you're only human. Humans fall, Elizabeth. We make mistakes, we get pushed around and kicked down, we break. But we also help each other. We touch each other in any way we can, we remember what we've gone though and try as hard as we can to make sure those we love don't suffer through the same things."

He was rambling now, he knew. His words were becoming garbled, flowing out of his mouth with no control, no restraint, but they felt somehow right. He was saying what he'd needed to say to her for far too long now, what he'd been too scared to tell her.

"I love you, Elizabeth. You're my friend, my family, a person I respect greatly, and care for deeply. I'm here for you, I want to help you, but you have to let me. You have to-"

"Stop." Her voice was so tiny he thought perhaps he imagined it, tear-choked and almost inaudible. "Please. Stop yelling."

And then he noticed she was crying.

In the two years he'd known her, he'd never seen her cry. Not when she'd been captured by Kolya, not when they'd thought they'd gone home only to realize they were still stuck in this Wraith-infested galaxy, or when Simon had left her. Not when she'd watched herself die, not when he'd almost killed her.

But she was crying now, silent tears streaming down the side of her face he could see, and his tirade came to an abrupt end as all his anger flowed out of him in a rush. He took a careful step toward her, aching to hold her, to take it all away.

But she turned away from him again, as he moved closer, her body so tense he could see the muscles rippling. "You don't understand," she mumbled, and he nearly cried himself at the despair in her voice.

"And I won't, not unless you let me," he whispered, his voice rough with concern and passion. He'd reached her, placing his hands on her shoulders, feeling her quivering beneath his gentle touch. It had been so long since anyone had truly touched her. He slid his hands down her arms, wrapping his own around her stomach, pulling her carefully back against him. She kept her arms tightly circled around herself, her only means of protection against the world.

"Talk to me," he breathed into her ear, feeling her body still tense in his arms. "Talk to me, Elizabeth. Or at least let me be here with you." Her breathing was rapid and shallow, harshly catching in her throat as she struggled to control her sobbing. She pulled away roughly, again, but weakly this time, simply going through the motions and not truly believing in them. She wanted to let him in. He knew she did. But she was too strong, too proud, to let herself.

"I can't," she sobbed, burying her face in her hands, shaking so badly he was sure she'd simply break into a million pieces. "God, I can't, I can't. I can't DO this. I can't let myself break. I CAN'T." He could barely understood what she was saying by the end, and felt tears in his eyes as he approached her one last time, gently turning her around with his hands. She didn't resist him anymore, just submissively twisted, all her strength gone.

"Why not?" he whispered, his hands gripping her so tightly he was afraid he'd bruise her. "Please, just tell me why not."

She didn't seem to be able to speak, her voice and body so wracked with her hidden pain, and he just stared down at her, eyes filled with anguish, trying to will her the strength just to speak.

And then she did, choking out just two words, words that were full of fear and anguish, and yet gave him hope, hope that he could help her.

"I'll fall."

And suddenly, he understood.

And this time, she didn't resist when he pulled her into his arms.

"I'll catch you," he breathed, "I'm right here, Elizabeth. I've got you, I've got you…" He held her desperately, determined to save her, to keep her from falling so far she couldn't come back. He crushed her to his chest and let her sob horribly into his skin, relishing the feeling of her against him, the puff of her breath on his neck, the warmth of her body. It let him know that she was alive.

And for the first time is so long he felt useful, he felt that he could do something. He had a purpose.

She needed him.

He felt her nails dig deeply into his back, and knew that they'd drawn blood. He could feel the sticky liquid flowing sluggishly down his skin, but he couldn't feel the pain. Anything he felt was drowned out by her emotions; everything in his life seemed so insignificant in that moment.

He was rocking her back and forth, he realized, soothing her as he would a child. He wished she were still a child. He wished she could still claim that beautiful innocence. And he wished more than anything that he could give it back to her.

But he knew he couldn't. The best he could do was offer her comfort, offer her support, give her someplace she could fall softly.

Because she had fallen.

He pressed his lips gently to her hair, then lay his head sideways on top of hers, still rocking her, still holding her tightly, so tightly. "It's gonna be ok," he whispered to her, knowing she didn't hear him but needing to tell her anyway. "You're going to be fine. I'm going to make everything alright." She made no reaction to what he said, but he knew she had to hear him, somehow. She had to. "I'll keep you safe, Elizabeth. I've got you, you're safe now…"

And as he spoke, she seemed to calm slightly, the sound of his voice soothing her desperate sobs. He continued to stroke her back, keeping her protectively enclosed in his arms, but he no longer felt he was the only thing holding her upright. After what seemed like eternity, and seemed only a few moments of time, her breathing slowed, her crying died down, and she lay quietly on his chest. But he didn't let her go, and she didn't pull away, just stayed there, in the comfort of his arms, and let him hold her. Let him protect her. Let him take care of her, just this once.

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So, what do you think? Me loves reviews, they make me super happy.

More coming soon, hopefully :)


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